Reincarnation
by Naz
Summary: Seven brothers begin to have strange experiances, and soon find a gateway to another world... And possibly something more. No slash. Please, r&r. Warning: Sil-based!! NOT LOTR!
1. One

Max woke up in a cold sweat. He saw by his clock it was only 3:14 am. He couldn't feel his right hand, nor could he move it.  
  
It had been like this for some weeks. Max was having nightmares- horrible ones- usually involving death. He always woke up terrified, and he was never able to feel his right hand.  
  
Then again, ever since he was little, the feeling in his hand would go away and it wouldn't work.  
  
Finally calming down, Max lay back down. The feeling in his hand came back, which made him feel much better. His eyes slowly closed again.  
  
-_-_-_-_-  
  
"Wake up!!"  
  
It was morning now, a school morning at that. Chaos reigned supreme in the school mornings. There were seven kids to take care of- Max was eldest, 15, second was Michael, more commonly known as Mike, 13, then Christopher (Chris), who was only 10 and already had girls goggling over him (he had good looks), Caleb, 8, who was always getting into fights, Carl, 6, who loved LEGOs like there was no tomorrow, and lastly, the twins, Aaron and Adam, who were both three.  
  
This morning was especially chaotic. Max's school clothes weren't washed, and Caleb cut his finger, Christopher couldn't find his math homework, and the twins were underfoot.  
  
Another thing was this: All of the boys had long hair (resulting in teasing such as "You look like a girl" or "You look like a hippie"), as did their father and mother. They all had quite dark hair, except for the twins, who had such red hair it was astounding. Max had reddish-brown hair. This particular morning, hair was getting annoying. It was ending up in breakfasts, in mouths, hitting people in the face, etc., etc. It was that kind of morning that made you WANT to go to school.  
  
Finally, they were all ready. Their mother, Nancy, handed the five boys who went to school their lunches, and lastly her husband. Then they all piled in the van and were dropped off at their various bus stops. Both Carl and Caleb went to the same elementary school, and Christopher and Michael were going to the same middle school. (Carl was in kindergarten, Caleb was in 2nd grade, Chris was in 6th grade, and Mike was in 8th.) Max went to a high school all by himself and was in 10th grade.  
  
Max was dropped off at his stop first. As always, his friend Liza Hernandez was there before him. She had medium length brown hair with touches of red, and brown-grey eyes. "Hey," Liza called out.  
  
"Hey," Max said dully back. "What's wrong?" Liza asked. "Hectic morning?"  
  
"Hectic doesn't even describe it," Max sighed. His clothes were still wet. He sat down on his backpack and hung his head, his long, black hair (not dyed, mind you) covering his face. Liza frowned.  
  
"That bad, huh?"  
  
Max looked up at his friend. Whenever he felt bad, she never teased him, never told him to suck it in and act like a fifteen-year-old teenage boy. He answered, "That bad." Then he told her all about his clothes (his father went rambling on, "You should've told us they were dirty, blah blah...) and the like. She whistled. "That sounds worse than 'bad,'" she commented.  
  
Meanwhile, at Mike and Chris' stop, Chris was agonizing over his unfinished homework. "Please, Mike, please help me?" he begged. Mike crossed his arms, shook his head, and stood firm. "No," he stated. "It's your own fault it's not done. So suffer." Chris bowed his head and took out his glasses, which he only needed to use when reading.  
  
There was a wind blowing and it was blowing Mike's dark brown hair into his eyes. He was already irritated this morning, and his hair wasn't helping. One girl at the bus stop said, "Ooh, let me play with your hair!" Mike wanted it out of his face so badly he let her. "Just no cornrows," he said. "And no twisties."  
  
"They wouldn't stay in anyway," the girl said.  
  
Some girls were flirting with Chris, though he tried to nicely ignore them. "Oh, wow, whatcha doing?" A blond girl asked him. "Math," he stated bluntly. Still the girl was not daunted. "It looks hard," she went on.  
  
"Oh, it's easy," Chris said.  
  
"I could never get the hang of variables," the girl rattled on. "I mean, only unless they said 'y= 12' or something, you know what I mean? And long division- ugh! I sneezed out that part of my brain long ago!" She laughed.  
  
The girl playing with Mike's hair turned to face the blond. "You need to leave that little boy alone," she said, then turned back to Mike's hair. The blond didn't look like she'd heed the African American girl's words, but didn't bug Chris after that. Chris got up to whisper to the girl, "Thanks, Alex."  
  
"You're welcome," Alex said. Her real name was Alexandria, and she was in 8th grade, but she preferred to be called "Alex." Then she said to Mike, "Your hair won't stay in! Shoot." Mike smiled. "I knew it wouldn't," he said.  
  
"Mike, ain't you in chorus?" Alex asked. Mike nodded. Alex shook her head. "You sing too good to be in chorus," she told him. "I mean, you sing GOOD." Mike blushed slightly. Everyone told him what a great singing voice he had; some just liked him to talk. He and Max were born in London, in the UK, but before Chris was born, they moved to Ocean City, Maryland, USA. So they loved to hear him talk. Chris had a slight accent, but not very noticeable.  
  
Chris was finally done his homework. He stood up and lifted up his backpack. It accidentally bumped into a girl who dyed her hair black and red. "Sorry," he said. "It's OK," the girl smiled. Michael saw it all and rolled his eyes. Because of his looks, his younger brother could always escape scrapes with the ladies. Even with his glasses on, it obviously didn't wreck his looks. It must be the jet-black hair, Mike had finally decided one day. The whole tall, dark, and handsome thing.  
  
"Bus!" somebody sang out. The group at the bus stop shouldered their backpacks as the bus pulled up to them and they boarded.  
  
-_-_-_-_-  
  
Mike grabbed the window seat before Chris could even hope to reach it. "You always get the window seat!" Chris complained. The thing was, when Chris whined and/or complained, it never sounded like whining and/or complaining. It was strange. But Michael, being his brother, knew when his younger sibling was whining (and/or complaining!).  
  
Mike shrugged and looked out the window, watching the outside world go past. And so he sang, softly so no one would hear and demand he sing to the whole bus. That had happened once in 5th grade, and he had never felt so put on the spot. Today, there was enough noise on the bus to be sufficient cover for singing. But Chris, sitting next to him, caught every word his brother sang. He smiled, and opened his novel to read.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
After school, everyone met at the special designated after school place- Liza's house. She lived near the beach, and though it was fall, they still loved to go out onto the beach.  
  
They were walking around, when they saw, on the next street up (Liza lived on 71st Street), there was a moving truck parked in front of a house. "Who's moving in?" Caleb asked Liza. "Do you know?"  
  
"Did you get in a fight today?" Liza asked. Caleb shook his head. "OK," the girl laughed. "No, I don't know."  
  
Max leaned forward for a closer look. "I can see someone..." He said. A little girl with long, dark hair bounced out of the house, followed by an older boy, who had ruddy blond hair down to his shoulders. Behind him came another boy, looking to be about Max's age, urging them to get out of the way. He had long blond hair.  
  
"No offense, but suddenly a lot of guys are wearing their hair long," Liza commented.  
  
"I'll cut mine short!" Carl piped up. He was teased the most about his long hair.  
  
"No, that's OK, Carl," Liza assured him. "But I wanna," Carl sighed, looking crestfallen. "No, no," the girl said. "I like your long hair." Carl grinned a Cheshire cat grin.  
  
A chilly wind blew off of the ocean. "Let's get back to my house," Liza said. "It's too cold out here. I'm all for hot cocoa and tea. Last one there's a rotten egg!" They sped off towards Liza's house, Carl trailing behind wailing, "Hey, no fair!"  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
The next day, Friday, was a good day. Caleb didn't get in a fight again- two days without fighting was a record for him- and Chris aced a test he'd taken two days ago. But Mike and Chris were walking to Liza's when the day took a wrong turn.  
  
The brothers were talking between themselves. Chris was going on about some teacher and Mike was responding about it all. Then someone who looked about 18 bumped into Mike.  
  
"Excuse you," Mike said. He didn't say it snottily, but the guy took it that way. "What'd you say?" the guy demanded.  
  
"What is your problem?" Mike snapped back. Chris inched away. The guy got up in Mike's face. "My problem is YOU and your face," he said.  
  
"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Michael sneered. "Oh, that's right, you cracked all the mirrors in your house." He was never this nasty- not even to his brothers- but this guy was getting on his nerves. The school day had gone fine, but some people had got on his nerves and he needed to get it out. Consequentially, the person he was taking it out on was also getting on his nerves.  
  
"Have you checked your weight lately?" the guy said.  
  
"Have you checked yours? I didn't think you'd need a belt with your gut." Mike said.  
  
The guy growled. "Them's fightin' words," he said.  
  
Mike turned around. "Get a life," he muttered. Unfortunately, the guy heard and pulled Mike down. Chris hid. His plan was to stay out of sight, but if his brother got in a desperate situation, he would help.  
  
Mike got up. "What's your problem?!" he reiterated. "I told you- your face!" the guy said, and hit Mike in his jaw- hard. Suddenly Mike found himself falling backwards, and the guy was coming after him. He dodged to his left, into a parking lot, not seeing an oncoming car. It honked at him, and got out of its way. The guy came after him and punched him hard, this time sending him up against a fence. Finally, Mike got tired of it all and hit the guy back.  
  
It went on for two more minutes, the stranger having the upper hand the whole time. It got to the point that the guy was threatening Mike with a gun, and Chris, frightened, leapt up from his hiding place, and got the police. They came back and grabbed the guy, but Mike had run off, and Christopher was in great distress and ran as fast as he could to Liza's.  
  
Meanwhile, Mike made his way to the beach. The sun was already on its way down. It was later than he and Chris usually got out of school because they had been assisting a teacher in setting up some projects for display. The beach looked calm and beautiful at this time of day. The sun lightly colored the ocean red, but it remained true to its blue color. Smallish waves were rolling up onto the shore. It was serene. Seagulls flew overhead and called to one another; the grass in the beach dunes rustled in the cool breeze blown off the ocean. But Mike didn't take notice. Not now. He was too busy trying to hold his face and keep back his tears all at the same time.  
  
He thought of how his parents would feel. He had insulted someone and gotten in a fight. They would be so disappointed. He had ruined his clean record. What was more, he had a long slash on his face he got from falling into a fence. It was bleeding badly now, and he held his hand against it. Finally, he got tired of walking and sat down, staring at the ocean. He began thinking he could end it all... Just drown himself in the ocean...  
  
"It's nice, isn't it?" a voice said behind him.  
  
Looking up and behind him, Mike saw a tall figure standing tall looking towards the sea. He had long, blond hair, just like that boy they had seen yesterday. Only he was no boy. The man looked down at Mike. "Isn't serene?" he said. He had an English accent too, Mike noted.  
  
He nodded. "Yes sir," he whispered. The man sat down beside him. "You know," he said, "People come here to Ocean City most in the summer. But this is what they miss in the fall!" He drew a deep breath. "Ah, what a lovely sea breeze!"  
  
"Yes sir," Mike said like a robot. The man cocked an eyebrow. "Somehow I don't think you share my enthusiasm," he said. "Not to be rude, but why are you holding your face?"  
  
Reluctantly, Mike removed his bloodied hand. The man gaped at it. Mike could tell he wanted to ask what had happened, but didn't, probably because he thought it'd be rude. He then put his hand back to his left cheek, where the scratch was. There was silence. They both sat there on the beach as the seagulls flew overhead or soared over the ocean or walked the beaches.  
  
"Mike!"  
  
Mike turned around to see Max come running up. "There you are!" Mike turned away quickly. Soon he felt his older brother's presence behind him. "Mike?" he said cautiously. "You gave us a huge scare. Chris was so distressed too! Oh, I'm sorry, sir, hello. Anyway, what happened? Chris was so upset we could hardly get a word out of him, much less understand the words, before he burst into tears." Mike felt guilty and hid his face. Soon his shoulders were shaking slightly. Max's shoulders sank. He had done it again. His brother was already feeling miserable and he had just made it worse. He seemed to have an uncanny ability to do that. He sank down beside Mike and put his arm around him. His brother looked up, still sniffling and holding his cheek. "I'm sorry," his voice cracked. "This guy... Bumped into me. I said 'excuse you'; he took it the wrong way. I insulted him and it turned into a fight. I didn't want to have to face anybody so I came here." He sniffed and turned his sad eyes to his brother. "I'm so sorry."  
  
Max stood there a second, just staring at his brother. His eyes stared up at him, pleading. Max had a bad temper (not as bad as Caleb's), and he soon became oblivious to the man sitting nearby, and burst out, "Why are you sorry? The jerk that pummeled you should be sorry! I am THIS CLOSE to finding him and tearing him apart! Police got him? Hah! As if that'll stop me! He messes with any of my brothers, he's gonna deal with me!"  
  
Michael's tears had stopped. He blinked wide-eyed at his older brother. "You'd do that for me?" His voice cracked.  
  
His brother blinked. "Well..." He blushed a bit, becoming embarrassed. He gave his little brother a cocky smile. "Well, heck, you're my brother! Like I said, anyone messes with us seven (yes, that includes Aaron and Adam, though they're just three years old), they mess with us all. And since I'm oldest, they most certainly have to go up against ME."  
  
Mike chuckled. The man said, "Not to be rude, but I'm feeling like a third wheel here." Max gasped. "Oh, I'm very sorry, sir... I got carried away."  
  
The man smiled. "Quite alright."  
  
"My name's Maximillian," Max said.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you," the man said, shaking the boy's hand. "I'm Frederick. My family just moved in. How old are you, Maximillian?"  
  
"Fifteen, sir."  
  
Frederick thought for a second. "Hm!" he said. "My eldest is your age. Would you like to meet him? Tomorrow after school?"  
  
Max nodded. "I'm sure that'd be alright. My friend's house is on 71st."  
  
"We're on 72nd." Frederick replied.  
  
Max was about to say he knew, but bit his tongue. Frederick might not like the fact he'd been spied on. Instead, he nodded. "I'll be there tomorrow. It's been nice meeting you." He smiled, and helped Mike up.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
Back at Liza's, they were met by a huge crowd at the door. Chris, bawling like a baby, hugged Mike hard. "Chris," he said, blushing. "I hate to say it, but you aren't six anymore..." Chris got the hint and wasn't hurt; he understood his brother may be embarrassed.  
  
"What is up with your cheek?" Liza finally asked. Mike drew a deep breath before revealing his horrible wound. Everyone saw that and their faces twisted. Max grabbed his brother's arm and marched him to the bathroom, and commenced to cleaning and bandaging the wound, all the time muttering how he was going to beat up "that jerk" and "he's gonna get it."  
  
"If mum and or dad ask," Max told Mike, "You're to say nothing about that incident. You know Dad. His blood pressure may skyrocket." Mike chuckled softly, then twisted his face up in pain when the peroxide touched the slash on his cheek. "So what do I say?" he asked. "Say you fell into a fence," Max said.  
  
"Not far from the truth..." Mike smiled.  
  
After that, Max then told of Frederick, and he was going to their house tomorrow. "He was a stranger?" Carl gasped, blinking at Max. "Then you shouldn't have talked to him!"  
  
"Well, just don't tell mum and dad, 'kay?" Max said. His brother nodded.  
  
After that, Max told them about Frederick and that he was meeting his eldest son, who was his age. They all swore to keep it secret, since it would lead to questions from the parents such as "how did you meet him" or "do we know him" while being stared at. When the brothers were leaving, Max hissed, "Just remember. Say NOTHING about 'that guy!'"  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
Of course, Max stayed up all night worrying about meeting Frederick's kid. "What if he's this punk kid?" he mused. "Sure, the blond guy we saw when we were spying could've been him, but maybe it was Frederick. Maybe I should say MR. Frederick. But what if his kid's this punk with spiked hair dyed electric blue and the spikes are black tipped? And he has his ears pierced all the way up and has tattoos and has a girlfriend who wears tight belly shirts?" He kept worrying and worrying so badly he didn't even know when he fell asleep. All he remembered was worrying one minute and being yelled at to wake up the next.  
  
Now, the ear-piercing thing didn't worry Max the most. He himself had pierced his right ear, on the cartilage on the upper part. He thought his parents wouldn't notice (he hadn't gotten permission), but his father did. His mother calmed his father down, and though they were "very disappointed," they let him keep his ear pierced.  
  
No, that didn't worry him. The rest of his worries did. Especially the "girlfriend wearing a tight belly shirt" one. And the tattoo one...  
  
He was worrying so much that he didn't notice what a lovely autumn day it was going to be. The sky was a clear blue, and the air was fresh and crisp. The trees colors were turning.  
  
Gym finally snapped him out of his daze. They were playing indoor soccer, since the weather had changed and was rainy now. Max played, but feeling like a third wheel, stayed on the sidelines. Soon the goal became a single cone. Everyone became frustrated trying to hit the cone. Max suddenly found himself being dragged onto the "field." "Wai-" he started, but the Gym teacher's whistle blew and the game began.  
  
He danced around, chasing whoever had the ball. He finally got it away. Everyone on his team yelled "kick it to me" and finally, annoyed, kicked the soccer ball so hard he hurt his leg.  
  
The ball hit the other team's cone, knocking it to the floor with a clatter, and the ball hit the wall and bounced back. "OHHH!!!" Max's team cheered. Someone danced around shouting, "Make some NOISE!" Max gave a half smile and went to the sidelines glad that was over with.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
After school came. Max told Mike to say hi to Liza for him. Then he went straight to 72nd Street, to meet Frederick's eldest child.  
  
He rang the doorbell, and felt his stomach flip-flop. The door began to open, and he tried to assume a confident stance, though really he was wondering if this was all a very bad idea. 


	2. Two

The door opened wide, and a little girl stood there, with her head cocked, looking at Max.  
  
"Um, hello," Max stuttered. "Is your mum or dad here?"  
  
The girl nodded and ran off. Pretty soon, a tall woman came to the door, smiling. "You must be Maximillian," she beamed. "Please, come in. I'm Maria. It's lovely to meet you."  
  
Max was a little speechless. He was busy looking around the parts of the house he could see. In a very short amount of time, the family had made the place look like home and some things looked like they were imported from foreign countries. Some peacock feathers sat in an aqua vase, and woodcarvings adorned a wall. "I'll call Floyd," Maria said. She went out of Max's view, calling, "Floyd! Floyd!"  
  
An answer came: "OKAY!" Annoyed, Max thought. Obviously annoyed.  
  
He prepared himself: But soon a longhaired, blond haired boy came running up. "Oh, hello," he grinned. "I'm Floyd." "Max. Maximillian," Max said. There was an awkward moment of silence till Floyd said, "Well... Come on upstairs. My room's all done up already. Anyway... Where do you live?"  
  
"A few streets down."  
  
"Ah. I'm starting school soon. Um, where were you born?"  
  
"England."  
  
"Me too! Um..." They stood there for a second in silence. Then Floyd cleared his throat. "Come on," he said, leading Max up the stairs.  
  
"This," he said, leaning against a door just to the right of the top of the stairs, "Is my room." He slowly opened the door, watching Max's face. When it opened, Max gaped. "How..."  
  
His room was already completely in order. His bed was made up; his dresser was there, books, etc. And it was NEAT and CLEAN, something that was hard to achieve at Max's home. "How- how- how-"  
  
Floyd smiled. "I guess I work fast. I usually do when I learn company's coming."  
  
"But didn't you move in just two days ago?" Max asked.  
  
"How did you know?" Floyd asked, a little shocked.  
  
"My friend lives on the next street down, so.." Max trailed off. Great, he thought. I've ruined everything...  
  
Floyd saw the change in Max's face, a little upset, and said, "Oh, you didn't do anything wrong." He smiled. "If you spied, well... I used to spy a lot, too."  
  
Max nodded. "Um, when are you starting school?"  
  
The other boy sat down on his bed. "Monday," he said. "Come on in and close the door. You hungry?" Max nodded. "This morning, we forgot to make lunches. Those of us who took note of that fact grabbed lunch money before they left."  
  
By that time, Floyd was dangling over his bed trying to reach something under it. "I'm listening," he assured the other. "I'm trying to find... A- ha!" He pulled out a box labeled, "Do NOT open, if you value your life." "My food box," Floyd grinned. "I have to hide it, you know. Don't stand around; you can sit. Come on, sit on the bed."  
  
Max did so, and Floyd pulled out various things from the box. By the looks of it, his new friend had an enormous sweet tooth. Usually, it might've made him sick, but Max was so hungry he didn't care.  
  
"So," Floyd said. "Tell me about yourself."  
  
"Mhmm," Max shook his head, swallowing whatever Floyd had handed him. "You first. Like, what's your last name... Siblings..."  
  
His friend laughed. "Oh, all right!" he said. "My last name is Williams. So it's 'Floyd Williams.' I have a little brother who's twelve, and a little sister who's six."  
  
"Names," grinned Max.  
  
Floyd groaned and flopped down onto his back. "Will you stop interrogating me?" he laughed. "Well, all right; my little brother's Tyler; my little sister's Agnes. Happy now?" He asked, eyeing Max, who nodded, grinning. Floyd rolled his eyes.  
  
Anyway, this went on until Max noticed the time: 5:09. He jumped up, hastily explained he had to get back to Liza's, and grabbed his coat. Floyd followed. "What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
"Dad should be at Liza's any second now!" Max replied. "I hate to say it, but... I didn't tell my parents about you. Or meeting your dad. Because..." He stopped his tracks, feeling guilty.  
  
"He was a stranger." Floyd finished for him. Max nodded. "S'ok," Floyd shrugged with a smile.  
  
They rushed outside, being hit with the refreshing but amazingly cold air that was blown off the ocean. In front of the door Max stopped again; his right hand losing its feeling again. "No, no," he said. It always hurt just above the wrist. It hurt like someone was cutting through him...  
  
"Max," He heard a voice at his side, and a hand touch his shoulder. He gasped and turned. "Floyd!" he said. His new friend's face was filled with concern. "Are you OK?" he asked.  
  
Max smiled. "Never felt better," he replied. "Well, I gotta go." He went down Floyd's front steps and ran back to Liza's, turning to wave goodbye. Floyd smiled and waved back, then went back inside.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
That night, Maximillian had a horrible dream. He dreamt he was up on a very high place, and he was looking over a precipice. When he looked down, he saw a man hanging from the rock by his right wrist. What caught him to the rock was an iron manacle. Then, another figure appeared. It was funny, but he thought this new figure looked a lot like Floyd. It seemed to him that the two knew each other, because the one who looked like Floyd started sobbing. Then Max heard the hanging man cry out to shoot him with a bow and arrow.  
  
Then, the hanging man looked up.  
  
Max felt sick. Because...  
  
The man looked like him.  
  
The man looked back down, and to Max's horror, his friend had drawn his bow and arrow. Max wanted to cry out, but couldn't. Then the man strung his arrow and bent his bow and cried out, "O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Noldor in their need!" There was a dreadful moment when it seemed that he would shoot, but a great eagle suddenly flew up and the man with the arrow mounted- mounted?- him.  
  
He took him to where the other man- Max shuddered because he bore such a resemblance to himself- and tried to free him. When the one on the eagle couldn't free him, the hanging man begged him again to kill him. The man on the eagle drew a long sword. "NO!" Max screamed, but he went unheard and unheeded. Then, the man with the sword cut off his friend's right hand...right above the wrist.  
  
At that moment, Max felt a searing pain where usually his right hand just went numb and wouldn't work. He cried out, and looked at his hand. To his horror, it was separating from his arm. It finally fell off, falling down the precipice.  
  
"NO!"  
  
Max woke up, breathing heavily, sweating, and tears stinging his eyes. His right hand was still attached, but now numb, dead-like, and hurt above the wrist.  
  
He choked back his sobs, going to the window. He pressed his head against the cool glass, and the tears ended up coming. "Why me...?" He muttered bitterly. He stared up at the sky, at the moon and stars. Finally, he gave up and walked out of his bedroom.  
  
He already had pretty decent clothes on. He slipped on his shoes, grabbed a coat, and silently slipped out of the house.  
  
He sighed. Walking as if he was in a dream, Max slowly made his way to the beach. It was chilly out, and what he was wearing wasn't all that thick. In fact, it was pretty thin. Max stared out at the ocean. Why am I so depressed?, he wondered. To keep warm, he started walking. To his surprise he soon found himself at 72nd Street.  
  
Floyd's house.  
  
It was a stupid idea, but Max walked up there anyway. He had gathered that Floyd's bedroom looked out onto the backyard, so he went around the house. Then he tried to get Floyd's attention.  
  
Finally, he grabbed a nearby ladder and climbed up to his friend's bedroom window, and knocked. Max saw him stir, so he knocked a bit harder. Floyd awoke with a start, but upon seeing Max at the window, his expression of fear turned to one of amusement. He came over and opened the window. "Hello," he chirped, not as peppily as during the day.  
  
"Hi," Max attempted a smile.  
  
"What's wrong?" Floyd asked.  
  
Max settled himself on the ladder and told Floyd all about his horrible nightmare, and about the strange things his right hand did. "Haven't you told your parents? Maybe it's a medical condition," his friend suggested.  
  
Max sighed. "I don't want to tell them," he said.  
  
Floyd blinked. "Then why tell me?"  
  
It shocked Floyd a bit, considering the fact he didn't really know his newfound friend very well. He reached over and touched his elbow. "Are you OK?" he asked.  
  
Max was sniffling. "I'm sorry," he said, smiling a small smile. "I guess I need to toughen up, huh?"  
  
The other laughed. "No, no, It's OK."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I'll tell you something." Floyd said, leaning on his arm against the window. "I have nightmares like yours, too. Only not as...vivid." He smiled. "Can I tell you?" he whispered. Max nodded.  
  
"All right," the other boy said. "Tonight... I had a really bad nightmare. It was in a void or a really dark place. Anyway, then I thought I saw you from behind. I called out to you and ran over to you. Then I saw-" -he looked up at Max's face- "your right hand was gone."  
  
Max stiffened. "Gone?" he croaked.  
  
"Like your dream," Floyd nodded. "Only it wasn't bleeding like it was freshly cut. Just no hand. And your left hand was holding something tightly, and it was glowing through your fingers. And you turned around, and..." He swallowed, blinking. "It was horrible. Your face was so worn out, you looked dead tired...you looked like you WERE dead. And," he swallowed again, collecting himself. Max touched his friend's arm. "It's OK," he said.  
  
Floyd nodded. "You were crying," he continued. "But not regular tears. They were red." He stared blankly at Max's face. "Blood tears."  
  
"Oh, my g..." Max stopped. ("Young man, you say the Lord's name in vain and you'll never see the light of day AGAIN!" was one of the few threats Max's mother ever gave.) He grabbed Floyd's arm. Now Floyd was sniffling. "It scared me," he sobbed. "And it hurt, too. I don't know why, but it hurt, it hurt..." Then Max reached over the windowsill to give his friend an awkward hug. He didn't think much of it, because he and Liza had always hugged. To him, it could just be a friend thing. Floyd sniffled and hugged back. "I'm OK now," he said, pulling away. "Then," he continued. "Then you opened your hand. There was this jewel you were holding. It was really bright, brighter than the Sun. Then you said in this tear-choked voice, almost a whisper, 'It hurts, it hurts.' And I reached forward to help you, but you stepped away and out of nowhere came this chasm and you fell right down into it. It scared me so bad."  
  
Floyd's friend blinked. "I died in your dream?" he asked hoarsely. Floyd nodded. Max just stared.  
  
Then, a knock sounded on the door. "Floyd!" A little girl's voice called out. "Floyd!"  
  
"Oh, no, Agnes!" Floyd gasped. He turned to Maximillian.  
  
"I'll get down," his friend nodded. Floyd nodded back. It was strange, he thought, that his new friend could be so unhappy, discouraged, vulnerable- vulnerable, merp- one minute and be so determined, ready-for-anything, strong, happy, etc. the next. Floyd thought, I don't like that "vulnerable" word. He opened the door, revealing his little sister, Agnes. Her hair was black, different from her brother's. "What's the matter, Agnes?" Floyd asked, trying to look and act like he had been aroused from sleep.  
  
"Firstly," the little girl said, "I thought I heard people talking in your room. Are you talking to yourself Floydyboyd?"  
  
Floyd groaned. "No, Agnes. And I TOLD you, DON'T call me 'Floydyboyd.'"  
  
"But it's fun!" Agnes grinned. "But if you weren't talking who was? Are there monsters in you room Floydyboyd?"  
  
"In my head," Floyd said. "And they're going to eat you if you keep calling me that silly name."  
  
"Liar," Agnes said. "Then who was talking, Floydyboyd?"  
  
"The monsters in your room," her big brother snapped. "Debating on how to cook you."  
  
Agnes whined. "Stop it! Who was talking?"  
  
"No one! You were hearing things!"  
  
"Nuh-uh."  
  
"Agnes, will you cut it out? Did you wake me up to tell me you're hearing stuff?"  
  
"No," Agnes said, sticking out her lower lip. "But... Tyler was growling through the wall at me again. Make him stop! Mommy and Daddy don't care when they go night, they just think I'm talking about junk. Mommy sometimes says, 'that's nice, honey, you go tie a bow!'" Her lower lip trembled. "He keeps talking about blood and fresh meat and fresh Agnes and-"  
  
Floyd marched off down the hallway with his own irritated growl. He flung open his brother's bedroom door. "Tyler!" he snapped. "Mum and Dad have TOLD you a THOUSAND TIMES to STOP growling at Agnes like a monster at bedtime!"  
  
"I was not!" Tyler said, his sandy blond, shoulder length hair a mess.  
  
"Was too!" Agnes whined. "About blood and fre-"  
  
"Just shut UP!" Floyd snapped. "Both of you go to SLEEP! Tyler, you need to stop this, this..."  
  
"Gosh, OK!" Tyler snapped back, pulling a blanket over his head. "Jeez!"  
  
Agnes went back to bed and Floyd did too, obviously ticked. That didn't usually happen, yelling bouts. Then he remembered Max. He went to the window. The ladder was put back. Max had gone. Floyd's shoulders sank, crestfallen. He just decided to go back to sleep...and to whatever dark dreams awaited him.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
Max didn't make a beeline for home. He wandered the beach, wondering why Agnes had started pounding on Floyd's door. He just hoped the two hadn't been heard and maybe seen. His new friend would bear the brunt of his parent's attack.  
  
The waves came in, small ones, lapping quietly up against shore. It was dark, but Max could see the stars, and the Moon. He couldn't see the ocean, and it was so quiet it was hard to hear it. It was relaxing. Behind him, the streetlights were on and occasionally a car went down the road. Max didn't know how long he stayed there, but suddenly he felt a touch on his shoulder. He gasped and whirled around.  
  
There stood Mike.  
  
"Mike!" Max breathed. "You scared me!"  
  
"What're you doing?" Mike asked, as if his brother hadn't said anything.  
  
The elder's face went blank. He turned back towards the ocean. "I needed to get out..." He murmured.  
  
"What?" the younger asked, confused. "Out of the house? Why?"  
  
Max turned back to his brother. "I had to talk to someone. That's all. All you need to know."  
  
Mike felt a little hurt. His brother was acting unusually cold towards him. Usually he took Mike's side, stood up for him when he couldn't, and was generally kind towards him. Now he was getting a cold shoulder. He was being treated like his other brothers. The hurt was soon replaced with suspicion and fear. "Max," Mike asked. "Are you doing drugs? Did you go see a drug dealer? Max?" His brother didn't answer. "Max!"  
  
"No!" Max said with a small laugh. "I'm not on drugs. I've just... Got a lot on my mind, is all. I'll tell you who I went to talk to if you swear not to tell who it was or that I or you was ever out here tonight. Swear?"  
  
"Swear."  
  
Max smiled. "Okay," said he. "I went to talk to Floyd. You know, Mr. William's- Frederick's- eldest?"  
  
"Ohh," Mike nodded slowly. "Don't you think you should tell Mum and Dad about him? All you need to say is you said hi to this man, he mentioned he had a son your age, and said why don't you come meet him?"  
  
His brother gave him a Look. "Because," he said. "He. Was. A. STRANGER. Earth to Mi-ch-ae-l!"  
  
"Oh, come on," Mike said. "Just make the meeting more abstract. You know, don't put in all the zillion different details. Like the fight stuff," he swallowed. Mike was still feeling guilty over the name-calling and the fight.  
  
Max gave in. "Oh, all right; I guess I will." Then he looked up at Polaris, but the noticed a bright object that seemed to be sailing across the sky. "Is that a plane?" he asked aloud.  
  
"Where? Oh, there, I see it. No, not a plane." Mike shrugged. "Maybe just a shooting star."  
  
Max thought his younger brother was right, and nodded, but something was telling him, no, it wasn't space junk. "What about a UFO?" he grinned. Mike laughed. "Oh, well. Race you back home!" So the two brothers sped off into the night, as the object sailed silently across the sky.  
  
-_-_-_-_-  
  
A/N: please, r/r! also the "blood tears" thing... Once again dealing w/ the Blind Gaurdian song, ok? No weird prophecy thingy or whatever, 'kay? 'kay. Thankies for reading. Gotta go eat now. Bye^-^ 


	3. Three

Saturday dawned sunny and chilly. It was a lovely morning, and Max snatched the chance to casually mention Floyd during breakfast. His mother nodded and smiled. His father just nodded. "His little sister's Carl's age," Max mentioned. Carl lifted an eyebrow.  
  
Aaron and Adam were over by Caleb, trying to eat Cheerios. Caleb was extra hyper this morning, since he was going off to play with his two best friends. "Caleb, dear, calm down," their mother said, but the little boy was too bouncy.  
  
Finally, they were released from the breakfast table to go whither they would. Max immediately went off to the streets in the 70s, and Mike tagged along. They dropped in on Liza, and then the three of them went over to Floyd's. Then they all went walking the beach, talking occasionally. The Sun shone down on them, but it was chilly out. They were just talking when they heard someone cry out; coming from the ocean.  
  
"Who would be out swimming today?" Liza shivered, cold.  
  
Nonetheless they ran close to where the waves lapped up onto the sand. Max gasped. "Oh, sh..." He muttered, kicking off his shoes.  
  
"Who is it?!" Liza asked.  
  
"I hate to tell you, but..." Max called back. "It's Caleb!"  
  
"WHAT?!" Mike shrieked, running to join his brother.  
  
"No, stay here!" Max commanded.  
  
"Not on your life! You may need help!" his younger brother snapped.  
  
Not wasting more time to argue, Max turned and ran into the freezing cold salt water. Once he was out far enough, he began to swim.  
  
He saw Caleb, who was barely keeping his head above the water. Him and his two friends were frantically trying to stay afloat. Suddenly, they were pulled under. "No!!" Max gasped. He dove under.  
  
Back on shore, Mike was trying to get away to help Max. "He told you stay here!" Liza argued. "I don't care!" Mike snapped, finally breaking away from Liza and Floyd and running into the ocean. They ran after him. Pretty soon, everyone was out in the freezing water.  
  
"Oh, no..." Liza muttered. "What am I doing?!" The ocean scared her to death and unconsciously she clung to Floyd's arm. But she finally let go, hating anyone to see her as a coward. She felt something tugging at her, and it pulled her and Floyd under.  
  
Meanwhile, Max had come back up for air and was shivering. Looking back towards the shore, he didn't see anyone. He began to panic a bit, but then he saw Mike swim up to him. "I told you to stay on the shore!" he snapped.  
  
Michael just glared at his brother. His voice changed dramatically on its own accord, and he said, "I gave into you once before. I'm not doing it again."  
  
"Mike...?" Max gasped in shock. His younger brother went into something of a swoon, and he caught him just as the undertow kicked in and they were dragged beneath the ocean's surface. Max tried not to breathe, but the undertow had caught him by surprise, and he unknowingly opened his mouth. He couldn't remember anything about "breathing" in water or anything, but soon all went black.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
Mike came to first. He spluttered for a second, spitting out water. He realized where he was: the ocean, and that he could not see the shore. Then he noticed his brother next to him, floating as if dead. "Max!" he gasped. He shook the elder violently (no pun intended), but to no avail. "No..." he said, eyes tearing up.  
  
Floyd and Liza finally popped up, gagging on salt water and seaweed. "You OK?" Floyd gasped. Liza nodded.  
  
Mike noticed them. "Liza! Floyd!" he yelled. Max came to. By some miracle, Caleb and his friends came floating up. Immediately, Max started interrogating his younger brother as to why they were in the water in the first place.  
  
"Oh, let them be," Mike smiled, trying to stay afloat. "What matters now is getting back to shore."  
  
"Ohh, buddy," Liza mumbled.  
  
Max's shoulders fell. "Don't boats come out here?" he asked in a ghost of a voice. The next second he was underwater then coming back up. "Did I scare you?" He grinned. "That was pointless," Liza pointed out. "I know," Max grinned.  
  
"Did you take your medicine today...?" Liza joked, poking her friend.  
  
"No," Max grinned.  
  
"Heck of a time to be playing 'round," Floyd commented. "I'm cold and tired. I can't swim for long like you fishes."  
  
"Well, I can't!" Caleb pouted. "But swimmin' back prolly'll kill us off, so why not jus' wait here?"  
  
Mike snapped, "Caleb!"  
  
"Well, it's true!"  
  
"I don't care. Don't even bring up the possibility." Mike's voice softened; like his mother's would after a rare outburst.  
  
Liza suddenly said, "Hey! Is that a boat? Ship? Whatever?"  
  
And then they all saw it-it was a boat coming up next to them. It was a motorboat, and it came to a dead slow, and finally a stop. But when they jumped onboard, they saw no one. "Oh, great," Liza muttered. "A smegging ghost boat."  
  
"What'd you say?" Max asked, his head under the dashboard, calling "helloo- oo-oo."  
  
"I said, 'OH, GREAT. A SMEGGING GHOST BOAT.'" Liza reiterated louder.  
  
Max scowled. "You don't have to yell. Anyways, I've found the manual. Now let's start her up." The strange boat started and roared off.  
  
It took awhile to get back to shore, and when they did, they didn't know where to put the boat, and Max couldn't find his shoes. They had all dried on the boat, but when Max finally found his shoes, they were soaking wet. They left the boat and ran off, swearing not to tell the grown ups about their weird little adventure.  
  
-_-_-_-_-  
  
The next day, Sunday, came in dreary, with plenty of rain. Max slept in, untroubled by horrifying nightmares for once. Instead, it was Michael who had been having insomnia because of horrible dreams.  
  
He woke up at 3:45 AM, rather shocked. His dream had made no sense except that it dealt a lot with blood and such, and such an overwhelming feeling of sadness, loss, pain, guilt, grief... Upon waking up, he almost burst into tears, he was so sad. And it woke Max up. At first he thought it was Carl when he realized it (the crying) was too soft and muffled to be Carl. He got up and went to Mike's bedroom first by instinct, and saw his slightly younger brother curled up in bed, his face in his pillow. His shoulders shook. "Hey, Mike," Max said going to his brother's bedside.  
  
"What?" A choked, muffled answer came.  
  
"You OK?" Max asked softly, unusual for him.  
  
Mike lifted his tearstained face. "No," he sniffled. "I had the worst dream..."  
  
Max thought his heart stopped. "Go on," he fairly croaked, earning him a Look from his younger brother.  
  
"It was so confusing," Mike continued. "But it was so sad, all the same. Like a lot of people were dead and dying. And then-" he choked. "I was all alone. I thought there might be others left, but I felt as if I couldn't or shouldn't face them."  
  
Max nodded absentmindedly. Then he snapped out of his daze. "Well, are you OK now?"  
  
"Were you even LISTENING?" his younger brother asked.  
  
"Of course!" Max replied. "Why wouldn't I?"  
  
"You zoned out," Mike said.  
  
"Doesn't mean I wasn't listening," the elder (NO PUN) said. "Now, come on; get back to sleep. OK?"  
  
Michael sighed. "All right, I am," said he.  
  
When he woke up, the dreary weather didn't improve anything.  
  
"Rain's boring," Carl said by way of greeting when Mike walked into the kitchen. He was trying to get down some cereal, but the box slipped and it went everywhere. Mike retraced his steps to get the vacuum and vacuumed it up. "Be more careful, 'kay?" he said dully.  
  
Carl stared. "Um, OK," he said. His eyes were wide.  
  
In his present zombie-like state, Mike decided he should just stay in his bedroom. First he peeked into Max's room. His older brother was sound asleep. He emitted a low sigh. He was wishing Max was up already. He had a distinct feeling he hadn't listened to Mike's account of his dream last night. Instead, he went back into his room, closed the door, and stood for a second. Then he sat down at his desk and started drawing.  
  
-_-_-_-_-  
  
Max woke up only two minutes before twelve PM. He smiled and stretched; glad for once he had been able to sleep in. What's more, he had had no strange dreams. Then he remembered Mike's dream and how distraught his brother had been. That dampened his mood a bit, that and the rain.  
  
He walked out after dressing, and greeted Carl, who was sitting at the table eating cereal staring at the back of the cereal box. "Max, what's wrong with Mike?" the little kindergartener asked.  
  
"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong with him," Max said.  
  
"Then why did he talk weird to me?" Carl asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"He talked weird to me!"  
  
"What does that MEAN?"  
  
When Carl shrugged, Max just shook his head and went off to his brother's room.  
  
The closed door made him wonder. Mike usually didn't close his door. It wasn't like him. He gently knocked. "Come in," came the dull answer. So that's what Carl had meant, Max realized as he opened the door and stepped in.  
  
Mike looked up from his desk and turned and smiled. "Hi," he said.  
  
The smile looked a little forced. "Hi, Mike. You OK?" Max asked. "Carl said you were talking weird." He eyed his brother.  
  
"Weird?" the other sort of stuttered.  
  
"Mike, why are you talking like this? You act like you don't know me!" Max exclaimed. "What's wrong with you?"  
  
Mike handed him three sheets of paper. "This," his voice cracked. "Close the door." Max did and then looked at the papers. They were drawings, actually.  
  
"Oh, my..." Max said. All were horribly gruesome, or depicting some drear mood in some way, be it loneliness or death...  
  
Then it struck him. "From your dream," Max said. Now it was his voice's turn to crack. Mike nodded. "I had to draw it," he whispered. "I don't know why; just had to." He looked at his brother's pale face. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Firstly, I didn't know how well you drew. Secondly," the older brother drew in his breath and returned his younger brother's gaze. The words wouldn't come. So he just shook his head.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
"Floydy! Floydy! Wake up!"  
  
Floyd pulled his blanket over his head. "Go away, Agnes," he said.  
  
Agnes pouted. "That's mean." She bounced on Floyd, making him cry out. "God, Agnes, what's your problem?" he snapped.  
  
The little girl gasped. "You said His name in vain," said she. "I'm gonna tell Moo-oommy..." She inched towards the door. Floyd jumped up.  
  
"OK, OK, I'm sorry Agnes, I'll get up. Just don't tell Mom I said His name in vain. PLEASE," Floyd pleaded. Then he took out his Secret Weapon. "Lollipop?" he asked, handing it out towards his little sister. She squealed with delight and took it. She ran to the top of the stairs and called out:  
  
"Mommy!"  
  
Floyd's heart stopped. She promised she wouldn't tell; he'd get her for it-  
  
"Floydyboyd's up!" Agnes flashed a grin, stuck the lollipop in her trap (as in mouth), and bounced down the stairs.  
  
Floyd breathed a sigh of relief and put on some socks. Their mother forbid them to say God's name in vain. It was so hard sometimes, though. A lot of other kids said it so it might end up burned into your brain and you may say it without thinking. Also, sometimes Floyd was so frustrated it just came out. Not like his mother would listen, much less understand. She'd hire a firing squad before he could say another word.  
  
It was depressing to see rain outside. But Floyd just decided to smile and be happy. It was Sunday, anyway. He'd better enjoy himself before it was time for him to go back to school. So he, too, bounced downstairs. He didn't know why he felt so happy, he just was.  
  
His mother was in the kitchen, making cinnamon rolls and two sticky buns. Floyd made a face. His mom and Tyler loved sticky buns to death. He hated them to death. He wondered if Max liked them.  
  
Max. It was the first time he'd thought of his new friend this morning. During yesterday's little adventure though, he felt more than ever as if he'd known Max for years on end. But that couldn't be.  
  
"Hi, honey," his mother greeted him cheerily. "Hi, Mom," Floyd said, draping himself over a dining room chair. "Hey, Mom?" he asked.  
  
"Yes dear?"  
  
"Can I run over to my friend's house real quick?" Floyd felt his stomach flip. He had had another dream again last night.  
  
"Why?" his mother asked, a confused look on her face. "Friend? What friend? Oh, Max?"  
  
"Yeah, him," Floyd said. "I think I...lent him something I need back."  
  
"Well, OK dear. But hurry up. And if they're eating breakfast, ask if you could get whatever it is later."  
  
"Will do!" Floyd called, slipping on his shoes and going out the door.  
  
-_-_-_-_-  
  
Not more than a few minutes later, Floyd stood outside the door to Max's house. He felt anxiety creep into him. Why, he didn't know. He finally knocked.  
  
A few seconds later the door opened to reveal a woman. "Yes? Oh, hello there," she smiled. "May I ask who you are?"  
  
She seemed nice to Floyd. "I'm Floyd Williams. Max's friend. I just moved in a while ago."  
  
"Max? All right, hold on a sec," she said, closing the door but not securely.  
  
Soon, Max flung open the door. "Yeah? Oh, Floyd," he said. His eyes were red.  
  
"What's wrong?" Floyd asked, concerned.  
  
Max grabbed his friend's shoulder and came outside. They sat down on the steps. "Mike had a dream," he said shakily. "And he drew these pictures..." Tears leapt to his eyes and he looked at Floyd. "I swear, Floyd, I swear... I dunno what I swear."  
  
Floyd awkwardly patted Max's back. "This never happened to him," Max went on. "He was always this soft spoken little kid- OK, not little kid- who just seemed so happy and carefree... I don't know if it's the fight or what." Floyd noticed his friend's right hand go limp. It was noticeable only because he was holding it up near his face. One second it was strong, the next it flopped. Max went on. "He never used to have these dreams. They're like mine."  
  
"When did you start having the dreams?" Floyd asked. His voice was only a whisper.  
  
"Ever since I was really little."  
  
Floyd nodded. Then, "Is your hand OK?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your right hand. It looked a little....limp."  
  
Max smiled wryly. "Oh. That." He gingerly held his right hand with his left. "It does that a lot. Ever since I was little, too. Mostly when I wake up from those dreams. Or nightmares."  
  
Oh, God, Floyd prayed in his heart. Please help Max. Did he ever have a joyful moment? Please God, please, please, please, PLEASE. I'm sorry I said your name in vain; just please help him. Then a word came into his head: Iluvatar.  
  
Iluvatar?  
  
Max snapped him back to the present. He had said, "So, anyway, what's up, Floyd? Why'd you come over? When it's raining? I'm sure glad we have a roof over our front steps... Floyd? Floyd!" Floyd gasped.  
  
"You zoned out," Max said. "Are YOU OK?"  
  
Floyd nodded. "Just fine," he said. Max giggled.  
  
"What?"  
  
Max giggled, "Your voice sounded funny, is all." He shook his head. "Anyway, did you even hear my question?"  
  
"A little. Not really well."  
  
"Why'd you come over? What's up?"  
  
Floyd gulped. It had been another dream. But now he wasn't sure if he should tell his friend. He seemed so distraught. "Oh," he said. "Oh, right. Um..." He fumbled in his jacket pocket- it was cold out- and found his school schedule- all ready crumpled and ripped. "Just wondering if you were in any of my classes." He grinned. He hoped it was believable. He handed the schedule to Max, who took it. He smiled and gave Floyd a Look, a "you're weird, but it's funny" kind of Look. Then he looked at the schedule.  
  
"Hey!" He said. "You've got second period and fifth with Liza!" He gave him a fake scowl. "Hey!" he repeated.  
  
Floyd laughed. Max was cheering up, at least a bit. And his right hand wasn't limp anymore. "Well?" he asked.  
  
"You've got first, third, and... Do I have Mrs. Glickinson for third period?" Max squinted, trying to remember. "No. No. Yes? No. No, I think that's all. First and third."  
  
"Oh. OK," Floyd said, marking those classes with a pencil as either an "L" or an "M."  
  
"Uhhhm, that's only A day. Lemme check B day," said Max's voice at his side. Floyd handed him the schedule and the pencil. Max marked the B day classes and handed it all back to Floyd. Suddenly, a voice from inside Max's house called, "Max! Time for breakfast! Carl, I don't care if you ate cereal, come eat this breakfast with us!"  
  
Max sighed. "OK!" he called. Then he said to Floyd: "Maybe we can get together today?"  
  
Floyd nodded. "I don't see why not."  
  
"I'll have my people call your people," Max laughed and went back in, waving to Floyd. Floyd waved back, already walking back home.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
It was much later, 12:00 PM. Chris and Mike had been sent off on a mission: get groceries at the 64th Street Market.  
  
Max had gone off to Floyd's at the same time they had left the house. Most of the walk, both brothers had been silent, paying attention to crossing roads and not bumping into other walkers, if anyone else was out it this weather. Then Chris said, "Come nighttime, it's going to be 'dark, dank, and dreary*.'" Mike laughed.  
  
"Do you know this Floyd guy who's friends with Max?" Chris asked. Mike nodded. "What's he like?"  
  
"He's nice," Mike said. Then he changed the subject. "Have you noticed how depressed Max seems lately?"  
  
"Depressed?" Chris asked, taken aback by the question. Mike started to sing softly:  
  
I've seen the moon  
  
And the first sunrise  
  
I'll leave it to the memories  
  
And kiss the wind goodbye  
  
  
  
For the Eldar  
  
I'm trapped inside this dream  
  
Of the Eldar's  
  
Song of doom  
  
I've tasted poison  
  
When I drank the wine of fate  
  
But the fear was in my heart  
  
I realized too late  
  
The house of spirits call  
  
chorus:  
  
For the Eldar  
  
I'm trapped inside this dream  
  
Of the Eldar's  
  
Song of the doom  
  
High's the fee  
  
Soon my spirit will return  
  
Welcome dawn  
  
Your light will take me home  
  
I say farewell  
  
  
  
To the Eldar  
  
I'm trapped inside this dream  
  
Of the Eldar's  
  
Song of doom  
  
"Where'd that come from?" Chris said suddenly, surprised.  
  
"I-I'm not sure," Mike stuttered. "The words just came, and..." His voice trailed off, and he sighed.  
  
They finally reached 64th Street, and the market. It was a grocery store, really. They went in and got what was the shopping list, and then some.  
  
It was when they were beginning to cross a street that Chris wasn't paying attention. He walked right out into the street and a car came rushing towards him. Mike saw it and screamed to his brother.  
  
But it was too late.  
  
  
  
(* the song in this fic was by blind guardian, not me)  
  
*= this quote is from my little pony: the movie. ( just had to put it in!! ."before the little ponies came along and made everything nice and green.";lol 


	4. Four

"No, oh no, oh no!" Mike sobbed. He ran forth into the road to where Chris lay unmoving. "Chris! CHRIS!!" he screamed, hysteric.  
  
"I'm OK..." Chris muttered.  
  
"What?" Mike asked, confused. A dog ran up, wagging its tail.  
  
Chris smiled. "I don't know what it was, but I think that dog saved me in a way... So I'm OK." He got up. His older brother looked on in amazement. "But..." He trailed off.  
  
"I got out of the way," Chris said. "I just tripped over a rock."  
  
"You need to be more careful," Mike said sternly, trying to steady his voice. "Nothing, I mean NOTHING about this to Mum OR Dad."  
  
A girl ran over and grabbed the dog by the leash. "Is he yours?" Chris asked her.  
  
"Oh, no," she smiled. "He belongs to the animal shelter. No one's adopted him, though." Her smile almost disappeared. "If he's not adopted in some time, he has to be put to sleep. It's getting crowded in the shelter."  
  
Christopher immediately flew off the handle. "WHAT?" he half shrieked.  
  
"Chris, calm down!" Mike said.  
  
His brother ignored him. "How much?" he asked the lady.  
  
"What?"  
  
"How much for him?"  
  
Mike started, but it was already too late for him to stop Chris.  
  
-_-_-_-_-  
  
When they came home, their dad gave them a Look. "You're late," he said.  
  
"Sorry," Mike said, setting the groceries down. "It took a while to find the stuff on sale."  
  
"I'm sure." Their father eyed them.  
  
Chris spoke up. "Hey, Dad, you know what you said about getting a dog?"  
  
"Not until you can take full responsibility of it for yourself."  
  
"Well... I think I can," Chris said, squaring his shoulders. His father raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" he asked.  
  
Chris smiled wryly. "Well, I, um, have to..."  
  
His father started. "You didn't!"  
  
"They were going to put him to sleep! The lady gave him to me pretty cheap, I guess."  
  
"How much?"  
  
"...Eighty-eight dollars."  
  
"And WHERE is this money coming from? Surely you don't have eighty-eight."  
  
Chris nodded. "I've been saving up."  
  
Suddenly, Max burst through the door, breathless. His copper colored hair was soaking wet and water dripped off the ends. "911... Somebody all 911!" he panted. "What's happened?" Chris yelled as Max dashed for the phone. "Maa-aax!!"  
  
His older brother didn't listen, just grabbed the phone and dialed. Outside, they all heard a scream. Their father went outside.  
  
What he saw was a fairly old teen- maybe 18 or maybe even 20- holding a gun and shooting. Someone lay in the street. A small red stream trickled away from the person's body.  
  
Angry, he swung open the door and marched outside.  
  
Outside, a lot of kids were trying to hide from the psycho. He was going looking behind bushes and shooting kids. Floyd was hiding in a house's doorway. Max had had enough time to get to his house, and now Floyd was wishing he had gone with him.  
  
Two shots rang out and a scream. Floyd shut his eyes tightly.  
  
Suddenly, he heard a clear, strong, and angry voice ring out. "What are you DOING?"  
  
Floyd peeked out of his hiding place. Standing on the sidewalk to Max's house, stood a man with long, raven black hair. His dark eyes flashed with anger. He had nothing to serve as a weapon. If only looks could kill. Max burst out of the door behind him. "Dad!" He screamed, visibly upset. He tried to join his father, but he was pushed back.  
  
The psycho laughed almost drunkenly. "Whattur you goin' do?" Another boy, also black haired, came out of the house. He saw the psycho and screamed, then stumbled back.  
  
"Mike!" his brother gasped, grabbing him.  
  
The boy whispered something to his brother, at which point Floyd could see the elder's eyes fill with rage. He turned back to the psycho, whose gun was now pointed at his father.  
  
"Shoot me!" the man said. "Come on, shoot!"  
  
"Gladly!" the psycho guffawed, and two more shots rang out.  
  
"DAD!!"  
  
Floyd opened his eyes, only to see that the two brothers were on the house's threshold and a woman stood behind their father. She had obviously jerked him back. "What were you thinking?!" she gasped.  
  
Max stepped forward, stooped down, and got a rock. He said to the psycho, "You beat up my brother, you shoot my friends, you shoot at my dad. Now... Shoot THIS!" With a mighty heave, he threw the rock right at the older boy. It hit him in the head. Max picked up another. "You want more? You want more?" he screamed angrily. "Now you know what it's like! To be down on the ground in pain! Now you know what it's like to be THIS LOW!!" He was kicking the boy with forceful kicks now. Angry tears ran down his cheeks and mingled with the rain. "Now you know! Now you know! NOW YOU KNOW!!" He finally stepped back, shaking, sobs racking his body.  
  
Floyd dashed to his friend. "Max, calm down..." He said, patting his friend's back. Max's brother came up. "It's OK. He got what he deserved."  
  
"It's not OK," Max sobbed. "I've killed him." He gripped Floyd and Mike, who was visibly scared half to death. Liza came up slowly, and gripped Max's shoulder. The police came driving up, sirens wailing. They saw the boy lying in the street with the gun and the bodies of his victims, as well as Max falling to pieces.  
  
Alex appeared from behind a bush. "Mike," she said in a small voice, unusual for her.  
  
Mike saw her and said, "Alex, you're OK! You ARE OK, right?"  
  
"Physically," she whispered. Mike nodded and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He looked up to the sky, rain hitting his face and mixing with his own tears. "Nirnaeth arnoediad..." He whispered under his breath.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
Only Max's dad was composed enough to explain everything to the police. The massacre made it to the news, and almost everyone was interviewed. By that time, Alex was more angry than anything else. "That psycho," she said angrily on that night's news at five, "killed a whole bunch of people. And he's still alive? When Max- er, edit that- hit him over the head and jacked him up, he should've been dead!"  
  
The media tried to interview Max after hearing he jacked up the psycho without getting hurt. But he lay on his bed in his room and refused to come out. But he finally came out after the news people had gone. He finally came out, a little more composed. Alex, Mike, Floyd and Liza asked him how he was doing. He managed a little smile and said, "Fine."  
  
Afterwards, he acted like the event had never taken place. "It's better that way," Liza whispered to Floyd. "Tomorrow IS a school day."  
  
"That's right," Floyd said. "I got a new schedule."  
  
"Well, I guess I'll see ya tomorrow," Liza smiled.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
"Yo, Max!"  
  
It was the next morning at the bus stop. Max, who had been talking to Liza, turned to the approaching figure. It was Corey. His hair was done up in twisties and he wore his book bag over his right shoulder. "Yeah?" Max asked.  
  
"I heard you jacked up that 'psychopath' yesterday."  
  
Max laughed. "Me? Jack someone up? You're dreaming, Corey."  
  
"It was all over the news," Corey argued.  
  
Max laughed again. Inside, he thought, I don't want to have to go through this. It's a nice, sunny morning. I don't want to dwell on yesterday ever again. "Yeah, but they didn't say who beat that boy up," Liza pointed out. Max gave her a thank you Look.  
  
Corey threw his backpack on the ground. "Yeah, but didn't you take out Ronnie Michaels in fourth grade? He was in sixth grade and you jacked him up good."  
  
Liza gave her friend a wide-eyed stare. "You never told me THIS," she hissed.  
  
"Sorry." Max rolled his eyes.  
  
Then one of Corey's friends came up and they started talking about something completely different. At that same time, Floyd came up. He smiled. "Hi," he said to Liza and Max.  
  
"Hi," they said back.  
  
"I have a test today," Liza sighed. "In Mrs. DiJaurold's class."  
  
"Mrs. DiJaurold yells too much," Max said. He eyed Floyd. "I heard you got a new schedule. Can I see it?"  
  
Floyd handed him his schedule. Max's jaw dropped. "I'm in all these classes," he breathed. "Same periods, too."  
  
"You're lying," the blond haired boy said.  
  
"Not."  
  
Liza laughed. "You sound like brothers. Or little kids."  
  
This only earned her a Look.  
  
"Soo-oo-rry!" she sang, backing away.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
"Maximillian Smith!"  
  
"Here," Max said. It was the last period of the day, and they had a substitute. She had her hair in a tight bun and wore bright red lipstick. She wore half circle glasses and had on black high heels, a long black skirt that stopped at her ankles, and a tight-ish white blouse with ruffles at the neck. Her earrings were so large Max was amazed they didn't just rip through her ear and they were a deep aqua color. At that time, she was calling roll. Unfortunately, Floyd didn't sit anywhere near Max; they might as well have been in separate classes or, for that matter, separate periods. After she had called roll, the substitute said in her stiff voice, "I believe there is a new student in this classroom. Please state your name."  
  
"Floyd Williams," Floyd said clearly.  
  
"What?" the sub asked, squinting at Floyd.  
  
"Floyd Williams," he reiterated, louder this time.  
  
"Don't you yell at me, young man. It would be unfortunate if you had to go to the office on your first day in a new school," the sub said stiffly. Then she turned to the papers the teacher had left and passed them out. Max looked over at Floyd. He was rolling his eyes. Max cracked a smile, but it came as a surprise, since Floyd was so well mannered.  
  
The substitute ruled with an iron fist. If you even whispered, you were sent off to the office. It was as if it was dangerous to even breathe. So the class was stuck with dull (and dumb, really) worksheets without being able to speak to anyone. When the announcements came on, about fifteen people breathed out, "Yes!" And the sub sent them all to the office. "Oh my goodness!" One girl said, exasperated. "It's dismissal time. I ain't going to no office. I'm goin' to my locker. Bye y'all." And she walked right out of the classroom, followed by the others who had spoken. The sub wrote something down on a piece of paper.  
  
Finally, they were dismissed. "Will we ALWAYS get substitutes like that?" he asked Max, who shook his head.  
  
"Last time that particular teacher was absent, we had a really fun sub. She let us talk and do whatever. She was very nice, too."  
  
They met up with Liza at her locker, and set out. They stopped at Caleb and Carl's elementary school first as always, because it was close, Max told Floyd. Carl stared at Floyd. "Who are you?" he asked.  
  
"He's Floyd. My friend," Max said.  
  
"He's gonna walk with us now?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Everyday?"  
  
"Depends."  
  
Meanwhile, Liza was talking to Caleb. "So he hit you, then insulted you. THEN you swung at him. Right?"  
  
"Right," Caleb nodded. He had a band-aid on his arms, legs, knees, and elbows, plus an ice pack. "I gave him a good black eye, too." Liza tried not to giggle.  
  
They picked Mike and Chris up next. They were on their way to Liza's when the Smith's (Max & his brothers) van drove up. Their mother stuck the twins out the window; saying hurriedly, "Take care of them, please. Your Aunt Martha called. Her microwave blew up. Gotta go. Bye. Have fun!" And they drove off, leaving Aaron and Adam cooing in Max's arms.  
  
They decided to walk the beach, since they were in no hurry- "Unlike Mum and Dad," snickered Chris.  
  
They came to a strange sort of bush up against a rock wall that looked like it had a tunnel in it and was very tall. Then, as they got closer, they realized they were really trees arching over to make a tunnel. Curious, they ducked in. When nothing interesting was seen near the mouth, they walked on in.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
"It's dark," whined Carl. It was really very dark- pitch black.  
  
"Are we all together?" Came Liza's voice. "Call out your name."  
  
"Carl!"  
  
"Caleb!"  
  
"Chris!"  
  
"Floyd,"  
  
"Max,"  
  
"Mike."  
  
"Liza."  
  
"Goo," gurgled the twins.  
  
"Guess we're all here," Max laughed. "I wonder when this tunnel ends."  
  
"If ever," Liza said.  
  
They walked on more in silence until they saw dim light ahead. "Finally!" Carl said, running forward.  
  
"Carl, wait!" Max called out, but it was too late. His little brother ran towards the dim light. Then he suddenly stopped and stood stock-still. The rest caught up with him and looked out the opening. They stopped abruptly.  
  
"What on Earth...?" Liza gasped.  
  
For all they could see was a wide, open land. There was a lake flowing out into an ocean, and it looked as though some people lived there. It was nighttime. Overhead stars shone brightly and the Moon shone down. It was a clear night, and the Moon and stars gave as much light as the highway at night with all the street lights on.  
  
"This isn't OC," Liza breathed after a long silence.  
  
"Very GOOD, Liza," Floyd muttered. Then he looked over at Max. His friend was looking drained and tired. "Max, are you OK?" he asked, worried.  
  
Max nodded. "Just...tired. Is all." Mike nodded. "So am I," he said, his voice a whisper. Max's right hand went limp and it hurt around the wrist. As always, he thought grimly, setting his jaw. "Anyway, don't you think we ought to find somewhere to stay?"  
  
"Why not go through the tunnel?" Liza asked. But even as she turned, she saw the tunnel was gone. "What happened?!" she cried.  
  
Tyler shrugged. "Maybe we're trapped in this world. Never to return to ours." Agnes whimpered.  
  
Strangely, Aaron and Adam were quite and seemed content. Even as the group made their way down from the little hill they'd been on with some trees with plenty of bumping and jolting, they didn't start crying.  
  
They weren't very far away from the mouth of the river when something flashed out in front of Max, who was leading. He stopped abruptly, and now saw it was a drawn sword. Everyone stood still, and a figure emerged.  
  
He was tall, with red-brown hair like Max's. He had dark eyes that looked upon the group suspiciously and wore armor and boots and had a long cape. He looked young, maybe about twenty-something. What Max noticed, but probably no one else did, was that the man didn't have his right hand. It looked as if it had been severed from his arm just above the wrist. Max's stomach flip-flopped and he felt dizzy, tired, and sick. But he kept his composure.  
  
The man finally spoke. "Who are you?" he asked.  
  
"We aren't from around here," Liza said. "We need shelter for the night."  
  
The man sheathed his sword. "You look harmless," he muttered. His eyes moved to Aaron and Adam who were cradled in Max's arms. Then he turned and walked off, saying, "Come. Follow me."  
  
  
  
A/N: ok, I had a hard describing what the group saw coming out of the tunnel. It's prolly not accurate, but oh well. :P~ 


	5. Five

They all walked on in silence, away from the mouth of the river. Finally, they reached a little shelter. They entered into it.  
  
Inside was another man. He had jet-black hair and eyes, and his clothing was much like the first man's. "Who are they, Maedhros?" he asked.  
  
"We're not from around here," Liza said.  
  
"They have babies?" the second man asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Don't they look rather young...?" Max's face flushed. "They're my youngest brothers," he said.  
  
"What are your names?" the first man, obviously Maedhros, asked. They all introduced themselves, and the second man introduced himself as Maglor, Maedhros's younger brother. Mike suddenly wobbled and his eyes clouded over. Maglor caught him and set him down on the floor. "I'm sorry we do not have chairs," he said.  
  
"It's OK," Mike said, breathing heavily. At Maglor's confusion, he said, "I mean it's all right."  
  
Max put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Mike, are you OK?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Mike said, looking his brother in the eye. "But you're not. You're shaking, your breath is short, and your eyes look watery."  
  
Max snapped straight up. He had given Aaron and Adam to Chris to hold, and they suddenly started crying. Chris cradled them with Tyler's help, a little bewildered. "I'm just tired," Max said in a whisper. "That's all."  
  
"You're the worst liar I ever knew," Mike said. "Even CARL could lie better!"  
  
Carl smiled, then realized what his brother had said. "Hey!" he shouted. Max managed a little smile. "No, I'm really just tired," he insisted.  
  
"You must all sleep," Maglor spoke up. They finally got settled down, but most of them really were too sleepy to know what their bed was. Max finally found himself drifting off when Floyd rolled into his space. He forcefully pushed the blond-haired boy back. Lying back down, he glanced over at Liza.  
  
He had never seen her asleep. When she was awake, she was always on her guard, lively, active, understanding, funny, serious... Etcetera, etcetera. But when she was asleep... It had caught Max off guard. To him, she looked more vulnerable, maybe even sad. Without thinking, he reached forward and touched her cheek. Realizing what he was doing, he drew his hand back in a flash, blushing. If Liza had woken up, she would've killed him... "Max!" She would've screamed, "You're touching me in my sleep?!"  
  
"Liza, it was just your cheek!" He'd scream. "Nothing personal!"  
  
He lay on his back. Why had he done it? Then again, why'd he feel guilty about it? Maybe... Now that he was getting older, he was thinking differently about Liza. As in-  
  
Max blushed furiously and was glad no one else was awake. How could he think that?! That maybe he was starting to like Liza as MORE than a friend? I should be ashamed, really ashamed, he thought. He sighed and willed himself to sleep, still blushing.  
  
-_-_-_-_-  
  
"Maa-aa-aax... You're all RED. Are you OK? You sick?"  
  
Max opened his eyes tiredly, only to see Liza's face hovering above his. "What?" he snapped. "Me? Sick? Red? No! OK? Yes!" He jumped up. Liza gave him a Look- an are-you-sure-you're-OK-'cause-you're-sure-acting-like-an- idiot Look.  
  
They got ready to depart. They assured Maglor and Maedhros they didn't need a guide back to their home. "Are you sure?" Maedhros asked. "Evil things prowl round this area, especially recently."  
  
"We'll be all right," Max said. "Thank you for letting us stay the night." And they were off.  
  
They were a way away from the brother's place when they were ambushed. All was silent one minute; the next disgusting creatures were leaping from every direction, wielding strange and cruel looking weapons. Everyone but Max escaped the demon's clutches.  
  
"MAX!!" Liza screamed as he was carried away.  
  
"Run! Go!" he yelled back. "Get back to Maedhros & Maglor's. Just RUN!"  
  
They ran back, distraught. The brothers were shocked to see them return, and immediately set out after hearing what happened to Max. "You should have heeded my words," Maedhros said. "Your friend may not be alive when you next see him."  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
Max felt someone give a shove from behind, and the force of it caused him to fall to his knees. His hands were tied behind his back and the bonds were cruelly tight, cutting into his skin. One of the disgusting beings gave him a sharp kick in his side. "Get up!" It spat.  
  
Max gave it a glare that could freeze water on a scorching July day. He struggled to his feet and moved on.  
  
His clothes were now very dirty-he had already fallen three times. The second time he scraped his face on a rock and it began to bleed. His legs were tired-- he was tired, period. But he realized early on that he couldn't show fear, or that he was tired, upset, anything of that nature. He had to keep calm.  
  
It was hours until finally Max saw three great mountain-like things wreathed in a black smoke. He took a breath and started coughing hard. All the while he was being pushed along as he tried coughing into his shoulder. His face stung where the rock had cut it, and the smoke irritated his eyes to the point where tears filled them to overflowing.  
  
Soon the group came to tall, black, grim gates. They opened before. One of the creatures fell to the pitted earth for no apparent reason, and some who Max had thought were his comrades jumped up and began plunging their weapons into him. Max turned away quickly, feeling his throat constrict and his stomach churn.  
  
He was led under the earth, into a dark, dank, and, yes, DREARY place where thousands of the ugly creatures and wolves with razor sharp teeth lurked. It seemed they walked for hours but finally he was thrown down on the floor of a large chamber. "What's this?" a scratchy voice asked.  
  
"Prisoner," another voice answered.  
  
Max sat up and glared hatefully at the creatures. "Looks like it's a tough one," one of the things chuckled. "Did it fall along the way?"  
  
"Tripped."  
  
"Didn't faint? Well, well. But it said their names...?"  
  
"Yeh, so it must have somethin' to do with 'em," one of the things said, kicking Max.  
  
The second guffawed. "Well, if it does," he sneered. "We'll get it out of it."  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
Meanwhile, everyone else was slowly following the footprints left by Max and his captors. "From the way you've described them," Maedhros was saying to Liza, "it sounds like your friend was captured by orcs."  
  
"'Orcs'?" Liza repeated.  
  
Maedhros nodded. "What they want him for, I do not know."  
  
"He did yell out for us to go back to your place," Floyd said worridly. "By name."  
  
Maedhros stiffened slightly. "They may try to get something out of him... I'm not sure what information they'd want, but-"  
  
"What?!" Liza half-shrieked. "'Get something out of him'?" Maedhros nodded slowly. "They have their ways."  
  
"Like...?"  
  
Maedhros looked at her with his piercing dark eyes, as if to say "you KNOW what." Nonetheless he answered her: "Torture." Then he looked away.  
  
Floyd placed a reassuring hand on Liza's shoulder. She turned to face him, tears starting in her eyes. "What if he dies?" she whispered shakily. Floyd blinked. "He won't," he said, faking confidence. "Max is tough. I'm sure he'll live." He smiled a small smile. Liza wiped her eyes.  
  
"I'm such a wimp..." She said.  
  
Floyd shook his head. "No, you are not," he said sharply.  
  
Liza smiled bitterly. "Max might think so," she said. "Or at least jokingly. 'Liza, you're so wimpy,' he'd say. Then I'd hit him outside his head." She smiled. "Yeah, the jerk better be alive when we get there, or else." She laughed at Floyd's mildly surprised face. "Yeah, we call each other names a lot."  
  
Floyd smiled wanly, then faced forwards again. "Come on, let's catch up," he said.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
The creature advanced on Max. He was tied to a board to keep him from trying to get away. He maintained a steely glare, even as the creature began to finger his means of torture. "Now," it snarled, "What should I use?" It fingered a long whip, small daggers, some things Max didn't recognize. The thing grinned cruelly. "What to use, what to use?"  
  
It picked up what looked like a whip with thorns on it. Max swallowed. He told himself it didn't look too bad-then he told himself that was a lie. Looking at the thorns, he could see blood dried black. Some were completely covered in the stuff. He turned his head away.  
  
"Scared, are we?" the torturer chuckled. "Well... Maybe we'll get the information we want out of him after all." He wrapped the whip around Max's left arm and tightened it. Immediately, it cut through his clothes and into his skin. He turned his head away as the blood came, and tried to block out the pain.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
"There they are!"  
  
The "search party" as Liza coined it, could now see a desolate landscape before them with three peaks towering above. The air was almost unbreathable-every breath taken resulted in a coughing fit. And everyone was drained and tired. "We gotta stop," Liza panted.  
  
"No!" Floyd insisted, shaking his head.  
  
Maedhros looked at the boy. "She's right," he said. "We should stop."  
  
"But-"  
  
"We can't help your friend if we're tired, can we?" Maedhros snapped a little harshly. He turned and sighed. "Sorry," he muttered.  
  
Later, that night, they all huddled behind a pile of rocks, dirt, and dead plants, and tried to sleep. All the while Floyd was forming a plan in his mind. Once everyone was finally asleep, he slipped away and made his way for the peaks.  
  
-_-_-_-_-  
  
Max squeezed his eyes shut as hot tears began building up in them. "Tell us!" his torturer snapped again. "What do you know?"  
  
"Nothing!" Max snapped. His arm was on fire with pain. He couldn't block it out. He felt his blood running down his arm as the thorns bit into his flesh. Nothing could have prepared him for this. The torturer leaned in close, close enough for Max to smell his foul breath.  
  
"Do I have to up the method?" he hissed, spitting on Max's face while he grabbed a regular whip. "Or will you tell us what we want to know? You know those accursed Noldor? Speak!"  
  
Max swallowed and glared at the torturer's ugly face. His ears had sharp things sticking through them, and he had rings pierced to his nose and two on his mouth. His skin was a sickly color that Max couldn't determine in the dim light. It had a sick touch as well. His eyes were yellow and his teeth were sharp, as were his nails, which began to dig into Max's skin. His face has strange tattoos on it. He wore mostly armor and chain mail. Whatever cloth he had on was tattered and frayed. And he was dirty. His ugliness matched his cruelty. "I," Max finally breathed, "know nothing about what you speak. I know no one in this land. I just arrived here."  
  
The torturer lashed his whip at Max's face. "Damn you," he swore. "Tell me what I need to know!" He lashed out at Max again.  
  
This time, the tears overflowed in Max's eyes and he couldn't hold them in. "Stop," he pleaded. Trying to sound defiant, but failing miserably. The torturer's eyes gleamed with a cold, cruel light. "Stop?" he mocked. "Why should I?"  
  
He came in close and put the whip around his victim's neck. "Now tell me! Or you die." He tightened the whip. At the same time he reached for a knife. "Well?"  
  
Through his pain and anguish, Max refused to give in. "No, no, no," he mumbled. "I'll die before I tell you anything."  
  
"So you do know something!" The torturer tightened the whip and set the knife to the arm that wasn't injured yet. It began to dig into Max's flesh.  
  
The tears kept coming. "I know nothing. Just let me go."  
  
The knife dug deeper and the whip tightened. I'm going to die, Max thought. I'm going to die and I'll never see anyone again. Not Liza, not Floyd, not mum, not dad. He shut his eyes tightly. They were going to take his life before they took anything else. What did they want? His head reeled with pain, confusion, and certainty of death. In a sudden rage, the torturer pulled back and lashed Max with the whip continuously. "TELL ME!" he bellowed.  
  
The door slammed open and all that could be heard was Max's soft sobbing. Then the torturer snapped, "What is it?"  
  
Another foul voice answered. "The Lord Melkor wishes that this one be hung from Thangorodrim like the other cursed prisoner."  
  
"The Thangorodrim treatment? Again?" the torturer groaned. "Oh well." He unstrapped Max. "Come on," he snapped, pushing the bruised boy towards the door.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
Floyd stopped for a while, breathing heavily, to check his progress. He was almost to the three towering peaks. Wearily, he sat down. He wanted to rest badly, but he urged himself on. He was fearful of what awaited him, but also fearful of what would happen if he didn't get there. So he stood up and kept going.  
  
It wasn't long till he reached the foot of the middle peak. He looked up, seeing the dirty sky through jagged precipices and sharp edges. On some parts the side was smooth, but even those probably had nicks. Then he saw something that surprised him. Off to his right, there was a path leading up the mountain. He thought he heard sounds, and they seemed to be coming from within the mountain, but he didn't stop to try to find an entrance to the inside. He began running up, following the path before him.  
  
-_-_-_-_-_-_-  
  
"Come on!"  
  
Max stumbled up the path. His torturer was kicking him on. Another of the ugly creatures brought up the rear. They were walking a path up a tall, tall mountain-most likely to push me off, he thought. They had already been walking for hours already. Max was tired and still in horrible pain, but the tears were gone. He had already begun to collect himself, or at least try.  
  
It went on for another four solid hours. Finally, they came to a precipice and the creature in the rear carefully worked his way around Max and the other. Looking at the precipice, Max could see what looked like a clamp that was faceted onto the rock-with the skeleton of a hand in it. His right hand went dead and he bit his lip. Not again, he thought unknowingly.  
  
The thing worked at the clamp for a whole hour-the torturer always yelling at him to either hurry it up or he'd push him down Thangorodrim and hang up "his victim" himself. The name seemed familiar to Max, but not quite. It was as if he had heard it long ago. Finally, the creature opened the clamp. "Why'd it take so long?" the torturer demanded, spitting.  
  
"The Lord Melkor fashioned it himself. Very intricate. He made it so no one could escape it." It opened the clamp and the skeleton hand fell, clattering down the mountain. The torturer pushed "his victim" forward, causing him to pitch forward, almost falling down the mountain with the skeleton. "Get up!" it spat. When Max did not, it reached down and pulled him up violently. "I told you GET UP," it spat, its face close to Max's. Then it pushed him again, only this time towards the other creature.  
  
Just as the other was reaching and grabbing his arm, there came a great screech from the sky. A huge black shadow swooped down and knocked the now- panicking torturer over the edge. Its body bounced down the steep slope, and Max turned his head away, only to see the others horrified face.  
  
"An Eagle!" it screeched. It began to run, but the Eagle swooped down on him as well. Still clutching Max's arm, it began to fall, screaming. Max panicked for a second, but its grip loosed and it fell, finally gone. Max waited for his turn.  
  
It never came. Instead, the Eagle looked him straight in the eye and swooped down lower, low enough for the fifteen-year-old to climb onto its back. Slowly, uncertainly, he did so. Once he was on, the Eagle flew off.  
  
The first thing Max wanted to do was sleep. He closed his eyes, until the Eagle suddenly stopped. His eyes snapped open, he sat up, and the first thing he saw was Floyd standing on the path, then climbing onto the Eagle's back. "Floyd!" he said, his voice cracking. Tears sprang unwanted to his eyes.  
  
"Max!" Floyd exclaimed. It had been hours since either of them had heard the other's voice, or seen the other. "Are you all right? What happened?"  
  
"I'm OK," Max said. "But, but... This bird..."  
  
His friend smiled a little sheepishly. "I broke off from the others to come find me. They were going to stop for the night. But I had a gut feeling that we shouldn't wait, so..." He shrugged.  
  
"If they wake up, they'll be worried," Max pointed out. "When you come back, they'll get on your case." He didn't want to use the word "kill": not even in a joking way. He himself had almost been killed. "But, this bird... Those things back there called it an Eagle."  
  
Floyd absentmindedly patted the great Eagle. "I...thought I'd never get to you in time. I knew you had to be on the mountain, so I was climbing, but it was so long and so hard. I thought I was too late. I think I said something. I don't remember. Then he"-Floyd nodded towards the Eagle- "suddenly flew down. I don't know why, but I thought he could help. I told him, and I could've sworn he said he had seen someone who fit my description of you a way ways up."  
  
"He talks?" Max asked.  
  
"Well... Not really, I don't think. It's like his eyes speak his mind." Floyd sighed, then continued. "Anyway, he suddenly flew right off-I thought he'd left me to climb the rest of the way. That's why I was so surprised when he came sailing back down, and with you."  
  
It wasn't soon before the Eagle set down a little way away from where the others were. They were already awake, and when Floyd and Max ran up-Max limped-most of them ran up to meet them.  
  
Liza was in tears, which was a first for her. She threw her arms around Max and sobbed. "We thought you were dead!" she sobbed. "Oh, look at you... What did they DO to you?!" She touched his cheek softly, another gesture that surprised Max. "Don't touch," he said. "It still hurts."  
  
"Sorry," Liza sniffled. Agnes ran up, bawling about people who she thought were dead and how her brother went up and left. Floyd went to try to calm her down as Max's brothers crowded around him. Caleb was the first to notice the Eagle. "The..." He muttered. Then he turned around and yelled, "Hey, there's a big bird over here!"  
  
Maedhros ran up. "Shh, don't yell," he said. "The enemy may-" He stopped, staring at the Eagle. "Thorondor," he said under his breath in a choking way.  
  
The Eagle seemed to nod its head just slightly. Then he spread his wings and took to the sky. In a minute, he was gone.  
  
It was Maglor that broke the silence. "We must get you all back to your home," he said. "Your mothers and fathers must be terribly worried." He turned, then stopped. "But... Where do you live?" For the first time, he gave their clothes a serious look at. All of them, except for Agnes, wore pants and sweatshirts or a hoodie that were baggy. Agnes wore flares made for girls her age and a small pink hoodie. He muttered something under his breath in another tongue.  
  
Liza had regained her normal composure. "We aren't from anywhere around here," she said. Her voice was strong and steady again, not like only a minute ago. "We'll find our way back."  
  
"Without getting attacked?" Maglor countered.  
  
"We can try," Liza snapped back.  
  
"Calm down," Maedhros said, stepping in. "I'm afraid my brother is right- we don't need to repeat the previous events. With at least one escort, you should get home safely enough."  
  
Max nodded absentmindedly. "We should be going then," he murmured.  
  
Maglor went back to where his brother and he were staying, while Maedhros guarded the group. His left hand rested readily on his sword and he kept a close eye on Max, who seemed fatigued. Max was getting more tired, and there were times when his vision blurred or things became dark. He ached, and some of his wounds still bled.  
  
Finally, they came to a tunnel of trees much like the one the group had passed through when they first entered what seemed like a strange, dream- like world. "I'll leave you here," Maedhros said, and left.  
  
Eagerly, the group began to jog through the tunnel. Soon, they saw light ahead and were beginning to run, when a large tree root suddenly became visible and they all tripped.  
  
For them all, there was a prolonged sensation of falling and a sharp pain on one side, then, all went dark. 


End file.
